Promises
by uniwonder
Summary: "Moonracer arranged this big gathering for us, but you never showed up. Why didn't you show up, Scope?" Sequel to 'Ghosts.'
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making a profit by writing this._

_This is the long-awaited sequel to the fic, 'Ghosts.'_  
_It takes place several years after 'Ghosts,' so the hatchlings are now in their late-twenties (in human years)._

_Enjoy!_

_As always, feedback is appreciated.  
_

* * *

**Promises  
**_Prologue_

The crowd was thick and moving, unaware of the Autobot among them; and the sea of bodies parted as the mech's holoform crossed the floor, his limbs gently nudging them aside. The music blared, pulsing faster and faster, his sparkbeat mimicking the heavy bass. He was told not to utilize his holoform to mingle with the humans in such a way, but he couldn't resist; the ways of human kind intrigued him greatly.

His cerulean eyes darted about the dance floor, watching the humans drown themselves in alcohol and sex. It was quite the spectacle, but one does not learn simply by visuals alone, therefore further inspection was needed...

"_Scope, where are you?"_

The holoform twitched as the signal came through. Irritated, Scope quickly focused on the entity, keeping it stable, lest he was discovered. "The Nero Station, on Main Street," he droned, "Why?" The voice on the other end softened: _"Don't be like that." _He smiled a little, feeling Speedy's playful scowl from across their link.

Scope then trailed his fingertips along the side of his face and closed his eyes, allowing the electronic sounds to lull him back into a trance as he attempted to squeeze every last bit of bliss from the experience, knowing he would have to depart from this wonderful heaven.

As he turned, Scope felt a hand stroke the thin fabric of his shirt. "Leaving so soon?" asked the woman. The casually dressed 'man' offered a fleeting smile; "It is an emergency. Have a good night." He continued on his way, leaving the structure to enter the glossy black Lexus LFA parked outside. With the windows tinted, Scope was able to disengage his holoform and drive off without incident.

**Flashback**

"_I've missed you…"_

"_Yeah, I've missed you, too."_

"_Moonracer arranged this big gathering for us, but you never showed up. Why didn't you show up, Scope?"_

**End Flashback**

Scope entered the base, his optics flitting from one bot to the other—searching. He soon found his target hovering over an energon dispenser, and slowly made his way over to the confused female. "What's up?" The ice-blue femme jumped, quickly hopping onto the dispenser in fright. "Don't sneak up on me!" Scope smiled at how easy it was to ruffle her feathers, so to speak. He helped the femme step down, mindful of the poor structure of her right leg. "I was beginning to think you would miss this one, too," she said, gently brushing him off. "I hate seeing Moonracer so upset."

"She was upset?" He gently pushed by the femme to obtain a small cup of energon, his audio receptors tuned in to her berating. "Yes, Scope—her only child runs off into the unknown, ignores her calls; she was worried about you." Scope downed the container's contents in one go. He then lifted his gaze to Speedy: "Where is she?"

The light blue racer led her friend to his mother's private quarters, leaving him to confront the young female alone. Scope stepped through the open door, letting it close behind him before greeting the sharpshooter—only; it wasn't his mother that met him there. The mech was shoved back against the wall, his breath hitching at the abrupt contact. Scope stared into the shadows as the outline of another began to take shape, the mismatched optics revealing his attacker's identity.

"Perceptor…"

Just as the name left him, the youth felt his cheek bear the impact of the mech's fist, causing him to fall to the floor in a heap of burning pain receptors. "_What the hell_, Perceptor?" He emitted a groan as he moved to stand. "You deserved it," said the sniper.

"And that's '_sire_,' to you."


	2. Chapter 2

_HA! That's what happens at 2 in the morning… I meant to type 'Prologue.' XD_

_Thank you, for that and the feedback!_

_And, yeah, the hatchlings are adults now.  
__I'll throw in some flashbacks with baby cuteness, though. :)_

_I should also mention that the sequel was inspired by 'Promises' by Nero.  
_

* * *

**Promises**

Scope took a seat on the edge of Moonracer's berth as the femme tended to the busted lip he now sported. "Did you have to hit him, Perceptor?" she scolded. The sniper lowered his optics to the floor. "I apologize for taking out my frustrations on you, Scope. It has become difficult to retain my anger." The youth pulled his face away from Moonracer's grasp. "Why are you angry? Is it because I'm never around?" The femme frowned deeply and looked to Perceptor with pleading optics.

"Well?"

"…"

The mech's gaze turned to Moonracer. "I'm sorry…" he murmured. With that, Scope slid off the berth and stepped away from his parents, the black armor adorning his frame suddenly feeling quite heavy. "I wish I could start over—you know; become the responsible mech you always wanted me to be. And without this… defect." Moonracer approached her son, reaching out with her smaller hands to graze the sleek metal covering his shoulders. "Please, don't say that," she whispered, hugging the sports car from behind.

A knock on the door interrupted the tense moment. "Everything's ready," Speedy announced. Perceptor averted his gaze from the door, eyeing his small family, before making his silent exit. Moonracer pulled away from her son and glanced to the door with a small sigh. "He isn't used to it," she said. Scope tilted his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Perceptor almost died—he was shot through the chest, once; nearly extinguished his spark. Before that, Perceptor was one of the friendliest pacifists I knew. He used to carry vials instead of guns. He became so cold, so quickly; like a light switch." Her voice trailed off, restless hands shifting together nervously. "You were created as a necessity," she added, noticing how Scope toyed with the small lip wound. His mind was clearly trying to process the information given. "He wasn't ready for it."

"So, I was… wanted, but not in the way one might think." Moonracer's optics widened. She reached for his hand. "It started out that way, yes, but we grew to adore you. Do you remember the time you destroyed Perceptor's experiment?"

**Flashback**

_The scientist stepped away from the workbench, leaving the tools within reach of his young hatchling. And said hatchling took advantage of the situation to obtain some new toys to ease his boredom. The small creature crawled onto the counter, tail whipping about in curiosity as clicks of interest escaped his vocalizer. He prodded at one of the tools and then at the object his sire had been working on._

_It was spherical, in shape, proving to be an excellent 'roly-poly' toy. Scope pounced onto the object, causing it to slip out from under him. Perceptor returned just in time to hear the sickening crack of his project as it shattered upon the floor. The sniper stood silently, staring intently at his broken invention._

_Scope crept away from the edge, softly whirring as the larger mech approached the workbench. Perceptor roughly grasped the scruff of the hatchling, tightening his hold as the infant struggled, screeching loudly for his mother._

_He pressed Scope against the surface, emitting angry clicks of his own. "Stay out of my lab," he said, shoving the hatchling into the floor. Scope trembled, his tail waving around him in case the mech decided to touch him again. He kept his optics locked upon his sire as he crept towards the door. Before he could exit, Moonracer entered to find Scope frightened and bleeding on the floor. He chirped at the femme, immediately climbing up her frame._

_Words escaped her._

_Perceptor worked nonstop, without fuel and sleep; and with the threat of Decepticons looming over him like a dark cloud—the mech succumbed to annoyance much easier than he used to. "I… I don't know what came over me," he murmured, staring down at his hands. "I will never lay a hand on him again."_

**End Flashback**

"He broke that promise."

Moonracer cupped Scope's cheek. "He knows…"

"Does he even care, Mother?" The femme gaped. It was rare for him to refer to her as 'mother' or 'carrier.' The term made her spark leap. "He does. I think he cares very much," she said, trailing her hands down his arms. "Now, go visit with your nestmates. They're waiting for you."

Scope leaned forward to place a small kiss to her helm. "Thank you, for everything," he said, before moving to leave the room.

In the rec room, Scope was greeted with the smiling faces of his nestmates. This is where he felt wanted and accepted. He grew up with these Cybertronians; they were his best friends and trusted confidants. They were almost like siblings. Speedy, however, had an evident crush on Scope, and everyone but him seemed to realize it, which only frustrated her more.

While the young neutrals had their little gathering, Perceptor and Drift watched them from a distance. The latter glanced to the sniper, noticing something was definitely bugging him. "Hey, are you okay?" Perceptor averted his gaze, catching Drift's reflection in the window. "I'm fine," he said.

"Scope's a good kid… He looks just like you."

"Resembling either parent is natural and hardly constitutes a child's personality."

"Shame, that." Drift returned his optics to the gathering. "I was hoping he'd be more like you." The sniper smirked. "He is. I realize that, now. And this whole time, I've been suppressing him… making him rebel. I see more of myself in him every passing day." He then cleared his throat and looked to Drift. "Sway can get a new optic. He can be… normal."

The knight frowned deeply, watching as his son—the 'class clown'—playfully tackled Jambox to the floor. "He is perfect the way he is," he said, "Besides, it wouldn't be fair to the others." Perceptor emitted a small sigh. "You're right. It isn't their fault…" Drift lightly raised an optic ridge in the sniper's direction. "Don't do it."

"Do what?"

Both mechs turned to see Moonracer step into the small viewing room. She looked between them. "What's going on?" Drift bowed his head to the femme before leaving the two alone. Perceptor was a big boy. He could handle things on his own. The sniper allowed the silence to loom as Moonracer approached the window. "Prowl wants them trained to be Autobots," she said.

"They are not ready for it."

"Try telling _him_ that."

She turned to face him. "I know why you keep everyone from getting too close, but he's at a point in his life, where he needs you the most, Perceptor. He's a _part of you._" The femme placed a hand in the center of his chest. "You're still the same, on the inside. I know you are." Moonracer tiptoed to place a kiss to his still lips, offering a pleasant smile as she made her exit.

Perceptor leaned his head upon the glass, optics dim as he focused on the chatter in the adjacent room. They wouldn't be alive, had it not been for him and the Junkion; and yet he still treated them with indifference. What was the point, then? He never had the time for children; the idea never crossed his mind. But, now that he had one of his own, the scientist needed to face reality.

"So, Scope, good to see you didn't miss this one!" Sway hugged the smaller mech to his chassis. "We've missed you." Scope offered a smile. "I know… I'm sorry," he said. "It's those humans, isn't it?" Jambox inquired. "D-Disgusting things," added Cross. Scope looked between them. "They aren't _that_ bad."

"Are they more important than your family?"

"No!"

"F-Father says that Scope is a scientist l-like Perceptor."

Steel scoffed as his twin pushed him aside. "Do you take them apart? See what they look like on the inside?" Scope's optics widened. "No, I don't want to harm them. I just like to watch." Speedy broke the circle, nudging them off to the side. "Let him breathe, guys." She looked to her friend, raising a hand to his helm, giving it a good jerk. "You won't be messing with those humans for awhile, right? We have a lot to catch up on." Scope nodded within Speedy's grip. "Yeah, catching up sounds good."

* * *

_How was that for a first chapter? Good, bad? D:_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you!  
_

* * *

__**Promises**

After the party, Scope rested outside, using a local rock outcrop as his perch. His glossa dipped out to graze the bothersome scar left by his sire, optics bright and alert, ever aware of his surroundings. Speedy leaned against the entrance, watching the mech from afar. Her own sire disapproved of her feelings, primarily because of the grudge he held towards Perceptor. It was silly, trivial; but Blurr was known to be an arrogant snob, used to having his life served to him on a silver platter.

She took a deep breath and pushed away from the entrance. "Mind if I join you?" She eased herself upon a neighboring rock, releasing a sigh of relief as she rested her leg against a smaller stone. Scope scanned her frame, looking for any signs of discomfort. "That leg can be fixed," he said calmly. But, once it was out, there was no way of making it disappear. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her.

"Yeah… Daddy's tried to talk me into it—I think he hates the idea of me not being able to race with him." She chuckled lightly. There was no sense in being upset about it. She kinda liked being different. Scope, however, could see past the façade, knowing that, deep down, Speedy was in pain, physically and emotionally. Blurr has always made it a point to let Speedy know she was loved, but the fact that he was disappointed in her defect made it hard to feel truly happy. On top of that, the racer was at odds with Firestar and Inferno—the latter trying to work his way into Speedy's life, like a step-father. Blurr wasn't having it.

Scope lowered his gaze to the ground. "Don't ever change for anyone, Scope," she added, slowly moving from her perch to approach him.

She lifted his chin. "Okay?"

"Okay."

An awkward silence fell between them. They were so close; Speedy felt her face heat up in a 'blush.' She averted her stare. "Well, um… I guess I'll be heading back in," she said, "It gets cold in the desert." As she attempted to make her way back inside, her leg gave out—Scope was there before she could hit the ground. He held her against his chest. "The cold?" Speedy peered up at the mech. "Yeah…"

He carried the femme to her private quarters. "I can make it from here," she said, working herself back onto her feet. "Thank you." Speedy placed a quick kiss to his cheek, rewarding him for his efforts. She flashed a cute smile and disappeared into the room, leaving the mech dumbfounded. Scope could only lift a hand to his cheek, his spark giving a flutter of excitement. That was certainly new and surprisingly pleasant, he thought.

**Flashback**

_The two hatchlings rolled gleefully in the dirt, chirping and clicking at one another as they played. Scope then accidentally hit Speedy's leg, causing the femme to yelp in pain. She crouched low to the ground, her tail curling around her as she rubbed at the limb. The young mech was confused, at first; circling his friend slowly until he noticed where her attention was focused._

"_Tell her you're sorry, Scope." He looked up at his carrier and then back to Speedy. He inched closer, his tiny hand reaching out to touch the spines adorning the back of her head. The two looked at one another before Speedy emitted a playful shrill; and the nestmates were back to playing, albeit more mindful of her leg. Of course, Scope had his own problems, having to stop every now and again to let his systems cool down, lest they overheat too fast and thus prove dangerous for his little body._

**End Flashback**

Even now, Scope had to be careful. He rested a hand upon his chest, feeling his core temperature rise slightly above being comfortable. "Scope?" The mech turned to see his mother standing there, staring worriedly. "I'm fine," he insisted. Moonracer removed a small pill from her hip compartment. "Take it." She practically forced it past his lips, despite his protests. It was a special pill that temporarily altered his transformation seams and muscle cables to allow better air flow throughout his body.

"You shouldn't worry about me..."

"Why do you keep saying that, Scope? You're my hatchling."

"But, I'm _not_ a hatchling, anymore."

Moonracer stared at her feet. "I still think you are… It's hard for me not to." The mech smiled, pulling the femme into a tight embrace. She would be entering her first receptive cycle since his birth. Then again, a femme could conceive at any time in the year, but there was a period where the signs were more intense and chances of producing a hatchling were much greater. "I'm going to bed," he said, nuzzling her helm lightly. Moonracer smiled after him. "Good night…"

The sharpshooter returned to her own quarters to retrieve her gun. It's been quite some time since she practiced, what with her hands busy with Scope and all. She headed down to the shooting range, finding Perceptor had already beaten her to it. That was one thing she had in common with the mech—they both liked to shoot off a few rounds to clear their processors.

As she began to practice, Perceptor sat his rifle aside and approached her stall, watching her work. He noticed her aim was off, most likely due to the lack of usage. The sniper gently placed a hand upon her shoulder, letting her know he was right there; his touch then drifted down her arm, to the pistol she held. Perceptor held the gun higher, lining it with the target. It was a successful hit.

Moonracer glanced over her shoulder. "I'm a bit rusty," she murmured.

"I can tell."

His chest armor was rubbing against her spine in such a delicious manner. She shifted a bit. "What else do you notice?" she inquired softly. Perceptor stepped away from her, letting her relax. "I can feel inner turmoil. Scope, I assume?"

"He's growing up so fast…"

The scientist gave a shrug and situated his rifle onto his back. As he was leaving, Moonracer grabbed his arm. "I want another one," she blurted out. Perceptor stared at the femme, his hand taking hers. "Our energon reserves are low, Moonracer. We could barely sustain the first batch." She buried her face against the sniper's warm chest, letting her arms encircle his narrow waist.

"What am I going to do, Perceptor?"

"Let him do what he wants. He will learn from his mistakes."

"You should bond with him more."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

* * *

_To torment Percy with another hatchling, or not... Decisions, decisions._


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you for the reviews/alerts!  
_

* * *

Over the next few days, Ratchet had scheduled appointments with the nestmates, making sure they were functioning properly and to keep tabs on their defects. Sway, of course, took the opportunity to show off. He parted his chest armor, revealing the protective layer around his spark, whilst boasting about how it was supposedly impenetrable. Ratchet simply rolled his optics and forced the mech back onto the berth for further testing. He was the largest of the young Earth-born Cybertronians, prompting the medic to call for help in pinning him down.

Scope watched from the sidelines, observing the medic as he scanned his friend's defective optic. They would have to put him under before checking his ventilation systems. It wasn't something the Lexus was looking forward to. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling around for the small wires hidden behind panels of thick black metal. Without these barriers, Scope felt vulnerable. Before he took on his adult frame, he always had to have one of his parents nearby while Ratchet worked his magic. It may appear childish, but it was the only way.

Once Sway's check-up was complete, Ratchet called in Scope. The latter approached the berth a little too slowly for the medic. "Come on, I don't bite," he said, nudging him closer. "After all the times you've been here, you're still scared of me?" Scope peered up at the taller mech, giving him the best kicked puppy look he could muster, hoping the old coot would let him go. "No." Ratchet helped the young bot onto the berth and lifted a syringe. "Ready for the sedative?"

Without waiting for an answer, the medic stuck the needle into the soft neck cables, just below his audio receptors. Scope flinched, his optics locked on the other mech as he tried to keep his mind off the needle. "This is a waste of sedatives, Scope. I don't know why you can't take it like an Autobot." His voice trailed off into nothingness as Scope quickly succumbed to the drug.

Moonracer came in moments later to watch over the session. Ratchet gently parted the chest armor, bypassing the spark chamber as he sought out the delicate ventilation system. He checked over the component thoroughly, looking for anything that could cause a potential problem in the future. "Well?" Ratchet lifted his gaze to the concerned female. "Everything appears to be in order… The pills are working, yes?" Moonracer's optics roved over the revealed circuits and parts. "Yeah, he doesn't like taking them, though. Isn't there an alternative?"

"I'm afraid not… He's been taking them for so long; you'd think he would have gotten used to them by now." Ratchet checked the youth's spark, main energon veins, and fuel pump before closing him up. "He'll wake up soon." As the medic went about his business, Moonracer focused on her son, slipping her smaller hand in his. "He shouldn't have to be an Autobot," she said. Ratchet looked up. "I agree. These youngsters are our future; they should have the option of remaining neutral, to live out their lives without violence. Prowl doesn't see it that way, unfortunately. Of course, the guy doesn't have children of his own. He has no idea what it's like."

"Prowl needs to get laid."

The two shared a laugh, oblivious to Prowl standing in the doorway. He cleared his throat to make his presence known. Ratchet and Moonracer regained their composure, and watched as the patrol car approached the berth. "I came for your reports, Ratchet, on the young mechs."

"Well, they're healthy… Speedy, though; her body will be ready to carry—"

"I did not ask for the female's status."

"But…"

"A female's place is not on the battlefield. Besides, she will slow the unit down."

Ratchet gaped. "If you haven't noticed, sir, they _all have defects_."

In the distance, Scope's nestmates listened intently to the conversation, feeling something swell deep within them—something painful. Sway was unable to control his anger and stomped into the room, his one good optic glaring down at Prowl. He flared his shoulder armor. "You prejudice son-of-a-bitch!"

"Sway!"

The sports car jabbed Prowl in the chest with his finger. "You're just a power hungry—" Prowl had enough, and sent his fist into the young mech's jaw. It wasn't like him to lose his temper so quickly. Sway growled in response, and leapt forward, tackling the other bot to the floor. Moonracer looked to Ratchet. "Do something!"

"What do you want me to do?"

When Scope finally woke up from sedation, he lazily watched as the two rolled around on the floor. Without a second thought, the mech grasped Sway's helm and pulled him away. "What's going on?" he asked softly. Moonracer placed a hand upon his arm, easing his confusion. "Just a little scuffle, is all."

Prowl stood, brushing off his armor. "Sway will be sent to the brig for a little while." The younger mech stared hard at the tactician, a low, threatening rumble escaping his chest. Prowl gave an irritated snort and turned to leave the small gathering. Sway then hung his head, knowing his father would disapprove of his behavior. It didn't sit well with him, to disappoint his parents.

Later that day, Sway stood in his quarters, with Drift sitting on the berth across from him. "I'm sorry…" he murmured. The swordsman lifted his gaze, a small smile forming. "It's okay. You did something admirable, today… You might have done wrong by attacking your superior—well, you take after me, in that respect, but that's another story. You stood up for your friends. You defended them."

"But, you…"

"I'm not angry or disappointed. I've always thought Prowl had a stick up his ass, anyway." Drift stood and gave his son a friendly pat. "So you're spoiled! Who isn't?" He nuzzled the younger mech before approaching the door. "Just promise me one thing…" Sway glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Don't change for anyone. You're perfect, just the way you are."


	5. Chapter 5

_Kup thinks highly of the Wreckers~ -3-  
__And thank you for the review!  
_

* * *

"Is it me, or does Prowl give Speedy… odd looks?"

Blaster looked to his offspring. "Now, that you mentioned it? Yeah…" He returned his attention to the monitors as Jambox leaned back in the chair, casually propping his feet onto the console. "What do you think s'on his mind?" The communications officer gave an amused snort: "With Prowl—there's no telling. I guess we just have to keep an eye on things, and… let's not make our concerns public, okay?" The younger mech nodded in understanding. "My lips are sealed, Pops."

******************************

He had to be one of the few mechs who had a mirror in his quarters. Sway wasn't a vain creature; there was just something in him that made him desire a reflective surface of which to see what others couldn't.

He grew quiet, apart from the constant hum of his engine; his focus solely upon the mech staring back at him. The reflection, though, gradually altered in shape, revealing a pair of yellow optics belonging to an elder Cybertronian. Sway leaned back, his lips forming a thin line. "Nice to see you again," said the reflection. The youth glanced towards the door, reassuring himself that it was locked. "Why do you haunt me? I don't even know who you are," Sway hissed.

The mech chuckled. "Ah, yes, where are my manners? I am you and you are me. My name is Wing."

"_Wing_… You're…"

"Ooh, so 'daddy dearest' hasn't forgotten about me, after all!"

Sway sealed his lips. This wasn't the first time he noticed Wing. He liked to show up at the most inappropriate of times. "Why don't you go to him, then? Why me?" Wing's smile slowly dissolved. "One step at a time, kid. I cared for Drift like a son, you know? He isn't ready for me to come back into his life. Besides, it wasn't like I could choose who I was reincarnated as. Primus must have one hell of a sense of humor!" Wing placed a hand upon his chest. "You resemble him, especially in the eyes." The youth averted his gaze, raising a hand to the eye-patch covering his defective optic. "He has a good heart—you do, too. That glitch doesn't change anything, and Drift can see that, Sway. He has high hopes for you."

He felt [wiper?] fluid leak from the small duct in the corner of his optic. Wing spoke with sincerity and warmth; he could feel the mech's presence within his spark as if he were physically wrapping his arms around his torso in a comforting manner. Sway wiped away the tear and lifted his gaze to find the knight missing from the mirror. He pressed his hand to the cold glass—and that's when the door chime sounded: "Sway? Are you in there?" He straightened and unlocked the door, making sure he was composed before the other mech entered.

"Scope, I wasn't expecting you…"

"Heh, surprise?"

Sway took his friend's arm as he stumbled a bit. "Still woozy from the sedative, I see."

"Just a little," he said, taking a seat on the sofa. "I guess you'll be heading to the brig soon? Do you know for how long?" The larger mech shook his head. "No, Prowl wouldn't tell me. I'll be alright, though." The Lexus snickered. "You assumed I was worried?" Sway rubbed Scope's helm playfully.

"Bastard."

Perceptor was busy cleaning his rifle as Moonracer sat next to him, mulling over Prowl and his plans for the Earth-born Cybertronians. She feared for them, but never thought of them as being weak or unable to handle themselves in dangerous situations. She had to let go, sooner or later.

The femme glanced to the right, watching the sniper's deft fingers work along the cold metal of his gun. She was fascinated. "Is it heavy?" she inquired. Perceptor lowered the weapon. "It can be." Moonracer gently removed the rifle from his grasp and leaned it against the wall. "You're tense," she added, now resting her hands upon his shoulders. The sharpshooter began to finger the base of his scope, eliciting a small sigh from the scientist. She nuzzled the black helm, her hands gliding down the front of his torso. "Give me another one."

"Currently, the chance of you conceiving is approximately 45 percent."

"Then we'll keep doing it until it happens," she growled, pulling him down onto the berth. "Now, shut up and frag me."


	6. Chapter 6

_I don't want to give too much away, so I'll just say Wing was the one responsible for changing Drift's outlook on life. It's all in the 'Transformers: Drift' series – it's a decent read. If anything, the 'bots are nice to look at. ;3_

_And, thank you for the reviews!  
_

* * *

Prowl sat behind his desk, sporting that ever present scowl. He had no trouble in locking the young mech within the brig—which puzzled him. What could occur to have Sway change perspective in such a short amount of time?

The patrol car wasn't going to dwell on it for too long; he had more important things on his mind, like the younglings' upcoming training sessions. His fingers rapped along the surface of his desk, optics now focused on the door. "Blurr…" Prowl droned the mech's name. _"Blurr, here." _The tactician felt his lips curl into a faint smile. "Come to my office, please, and bring your daughter." He received no reply, knowing the messenger couldn't deny him. In no time, the door opened to reveal the cobalt racer and his little mini-me. Prowl stood to greet them, offering the young femme a small smile as she held onto Blurr's arm for support.

"I have a message I want sent to Jazz's location."

"Anything, anything, I can have it there in no time!"

Speedy peered up at her father with pleading optics. "Can I come with you?" She watched as Blurr sub-spaced the message, nodding in silent understanding. His bright optics then lighted upon the petite femme as she tightened her hold upon his arm.

"Not this time."

Prowl cleared his throat. "Speedy, you will stay with me. I need some help in organizing files for Optimus." He gently took her arm, coaxing her away from the messenger as the latter turned to leave. That's when Speedy felt it—something was definitely wrong. She stared after her sire: "Daddy…" She mumbled the word in a panicked manner. Prowl felt her struggle, and tightened his hold, causing her more discomfort. "Daddy!" As the door closed behind him, Blurr stood, feeling his spark break in two.

"Please, let me go…"

He leaned against the wall, unable to block out his daughter's frightened voice. On the other side, Prowl eased the femme into a chair and began to stroke the small crest adorning her helm. "You're growing into a very pretty fembot," he said, "Do you have your eyes set on any particular mech?" Speedy sneered. "That's none of your business, Prowl." He frowned deeply and yanked her head back. "The more you cooperate with me, the less pain you will experience."

"DADDY!"

By then, Blurr had forced himself onward. He and Prowl had made a deal—in exchange for a secure future for Speedy, Blurr had to give his daughter to the tactician. For the longest time, he told himself that it was for her own good, but deep down, Blurr knew that he only wanted the fame of having his daughter in the spotlight, racing and winning medals; and Prowl agreed to have her leg fixed—just for that. But, now, the way her voice echoed throughout his processor; that instinct deep within him, screaming: _Protect her! _It nearly drove him mad.

_I am…_

The Praxian watched as the femme curled up in the chair, her hand placed firmly upon her defective leg. "I'm… sorry, for scaring you," he said, averting his gaze to the floor. "Perhaps, I should do this the… right way." Speedy glanced to the mech. "I'm already taken." Prowl tilted his head slightly. "And, who is the lucky one?"

"Scope."

"Scope…" He felt a smirk dominate his expression. "Perceptor's boy—how interesting."


	7. Chapter 7

Speedy flinched away from Prowl's touch. She wasn't comfortable being alone with the tactician. Fortunately, the patrol car did possess a conscience and found it difficult to go through with his desires. "Do you want your leg fixed? To be normal?" Speedy stared intently at the mech, barely noticing his door wings rest lower than usual. He was trying to make himself appear less threatening.

"N-No… I mean… It would be nice, but…"

"It wouldn't be fair."

The femme nodded. "Yes, sir." Prowl stood from the chair, his optics skimming over her frame. Her armor resembled that of her sire—he had the final say, no doubt. She was quite beautiful and sleek, like a racer. But the tactician would not succumb to such immoralities; he would not _act_ like a Decepticon.

It was rare for him to feel a conflict of emotions. "Speedy, your father and I made a deal. As you know, your body will be physically ready to produce hatchlings in the next day or so; and I became… greedy. I was going to have Ratchet repair your leg, in exchange for your service as my mate." The news made Speedy gape in surprise. She shot out of the chair, glaring at the mech.

"You're lying! He would never do that."

"He knew that without a solid push, you would remain defective. Blurr was too _weak_ to do anything about it. This was the only way your leg would be fixed. Ratchet would not touch you without your consent. This way—I can pull rank."

"No…"

Prowl watched as the femme clung to the chair. He relaxed his stance. "You may leave," he said calmly. Speedy wasted no time in leaving the office, forcing the pain from her mind as she disappeared into the hall.

The tactician was left unsatisfied. He would not force himself upon her—instead, he would court her properly like the Praxian he was. He would win the femme over, free her from this fixation she had on _Perceptor's offspring_. Never has Prowl felt so _threatened_ by a youngling. Of course, it would strengthen the tension between him and the sniper, as if they needed any help.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Speedy took a deep breath and transformed into her vehicle mode—a sleek, dark-blue BMW M5. She drove away from the base, going as fast as she could, before coming to a stop outside of a nearby cave. The femme reverted back to her robot mode and immediately clung to her leg as the pain shot through it. "I wish I knew how to turn off my own pain receptors," she grumbled. Before it got worse, Speedy crawled into the cave and rested her back against the wall, her processor now swimming with thoughts of Prowl, Scope, and her sire. It was a messy situation, indeed.

Later that night, Blurr left the Autobot base in search of his offspring, following their bond across the desert, until he came to her little cave. The femme lifted her gaze, her frame trembling lightly against the cold atmosphere surrounding her. Blurr knelt by her side. "Come on, let's get you home." Speedy returned her attention to the rocky ground beneath her feet. "I'm not going back," she said; but the racer wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. He lifted the femme onto his shoulder, despite her protests, and proceeded to carry her back to the base.

She was forced into a warm solution bath, to help her core temperature rise back to its normal state. It wasn't fun. Not at all. "Why did you do it?" she inquired quietly, drawing her knees up. Blurr was at the side of the tub, optics keeping track of her intakes. "Why did you do it?" She repeated the words firmly. The messenger frowned and got comfortable next to the tub.

"I don't know," he said, "Fame, pride, narcissism?"

"… Prowl wanted me, and you left me there."

Blurr's optics dimmed with shame. "I'm sorry, Speedy, I really am."

"You know I like Scope…"

"Scope isn't good enough for you."

Speedy glared. "Have you ever bothered to speak with him? You don't like him because of Perceptor. That has to be one of the most childish things I've heard in a long time. Daddy, you're not a racer, anymore. You don't have to impress anyone… I'm happy the way I am, you should be happy for me." She stepped out of the tub and slipped into her sire's lap, grasping his torso tightly. "I'm not sorry for being defective," she added. "It wasn't my fault… I know it can be fixed, but… It's what makes me—me."

Blurr embraced the femme. "I'll tell you what I would like, though… I want my gestation chamber removed." The mech froze, his eyes brightening. "Whatever you want, Daddy loves you, and will do anything for his baby!"


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for the reviews/alerts/faves!  
_

* * *

Scope sat outside the base, where alternative music softly wafted from a pair of arm-mounted speakers. He had a particular fondness for the smooth melodies and catchy lyrics; Blaster and Jazz were the only ones to really appreciate his unique tastes in the humans' music. He didn't mind, though. Here lately, Scope liked to keep to himself with little to no interaction with the others, save for the tiring training sessions he was _required_ to attend. He hated them; he hated Prowl for forcing the Autobot protocols down his throat.

"… Scope?"

And, there was _her._

He overheard Ratchet and Blurr argue, one night. The latter spoke of how Speedy requested that her gestation chamber be removed, yet she wanted to keep her defective leg. It didn't make sense. Ratchet said it was "dangerous, and she is one of the few females we have. If she were to reproduce, it would be another step in saving our species." It took awhile, but the medic won.

Speedy took a seat next to her friend. "Are you okay, Scope?" He lowered the volume of his music and turned his blue gaze towards the femme. "I'm fine… Just taking a breather."

"Heh, yeah, Prowl seems to forget about—well, you can't handle a lot of vigorous activity. A lot of us can't."

"Speedy… Have you ever wondered what it would be like, not being born at all?"

The femme was taken aback by the mech's query. "N-No, I'm afraid I haven't. Why?"

"The Autobots wouldn't have to deal with our burdens."

Speedy gave her friend a hard slap to the face. "You shut up, right now! Your mother would die, if she heard you talk like that. You're lucky to have her _and_ Perceptor." Scope held a hand to his cheek, feeling the sting raid the tiny sensors across the pliable metal. "Firestar cares for you," he said.

"She used to, until it became too much for her… Then she went back to Inferno. I was left to be raised by a single father."

"Some bots our age don't even have that."

Speedy's expression softened. She looked back to the mech. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hit you. I guess it's still a weak point."

"Is that why you wanted to sterilize yourself?"

"Because I'm afraid… I don't want kids."

"I see."

"Do you? Mechs got it easy."

Scope smiled. It was the first smile she's seen him muster in a long time, and it was so hard to stay mad at him. She placed a hand over his, intertwining their fingers. "It's like that human story—Romeo and Juliet." He inclined his head a bit in confusion, causing Speedy to giggle. "It's a tragic love story, where two lovers are forbidden to see one another because of their feuding families."

"I never understood the animosity between Blurr and Perceptor."

The femme gave a small shrug. "I don't know, but they don't want us together."

Scope turned his head to show off a set of narrow scars along the back of his neck. "It's where my sire grabbed me, when I was little."

"He's always been a little… harsh, hasn't he?"

"I guess so. My mother claims he wasn't always like that; said the war changed him. I understand, now."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Sway dodged kick after kick, punch after punch. He leaped into the air, avoiding Drift's advances with expert skill. "You've been practicing," commented the swordsman. The younger mech accepted the praise with a slight flare of his armor. "I learn from the best." As the larger of the two approached, the Great Sword mounted on his back began to pulse. He paused in his steps. "What was that…?"

"What was what?"

Drift unsheathed the weapon to get a closer look. He took note of the blue aura radiating from the core of the blade. It wafted over to Sway, swirling around the sharp edges of his armor. "What's going on?" For a moment, the image of his son faded; and there stood his old mentor—Wing.

"W-Wing?"

"Dad, it's me…"

The white mech shook his head, the apparition dissolving. He replaced the sword and looked over the smaller bot. "I… I don't know what happened," he said. "That was weird." Sway frowned, feeling his spark thump against its chamber. He moved in, lightly nuzzling his sire.

He wanted so desperately to reveal his secret to Drift, but he knew now was neither the time nor place for such a conversation. He soon felt a hand gently grasping his helm, tearing him away from his thoughts. "You gonna be okay, old man?" Drift snickered at the nickname. "Yeah, of course!"

"Sorry to interrupt…"

The two glanced to the door. "It is time to continue your training, Sway." Prowl looked between the two before leading the way down the hall. Sway emitted a subtle sigh of annoyance. "He really gets under my skin," he said under his breath. Drift gave the mech a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You'll do fine… Get through his session—then, we can continue ours." Sway noticed his sire's wink and offered a smile in return. "I'll see you soon."

Lancer stepped forward. She had been watching from the watch-box overlooking the arena, keeping an optic on her boys. "I've never seen your sword do that before," she said, eyeing her mate from the side. Drift turned to face her fully, his dark hands settling upon her shoulders. "I'm glad you're here…" he said, "I could use a drink. Join me?" The femme pulled away. "Of course... Afterwards, maybe we can, you know…" She trailed a finger down the center of Drift's chest.

"Ooh-ho-ho… I like how you think."


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry for the wait, guys..._

_Warnings: Sticky_

* * *

Moonracer watched as her mate focused intensely on his work. She knew better than to disturb him; she was content with letting her gaze roam the clean edges of his armor, admiring how the dim lighting caressed the crimson metal of his shoulders. She noticed the fluid movement of his hand as it slid beneath the desk's surface to brush against the sensitive cover hiding his spike.

It wouldn't be long before he returned to her…

In the meantime, Moonracer thought about Scope and how he was doing with Prowl's training sessions. They were strenuous on his body, but he pushed through it and gave it his all. She was proud of him, yet she worried; he was still young and inexperienced, and accidents did happen. Then again, Scope was a smart guy; he wouldn't take on more than he could handle. The sharpshooter smiled, feeling a wave of contentedness flow through her systems. She felt accomplished, having raised an intelligent, good-looking mech.

Moonracer rolled onto her belly, bending her knees to slowly move her feet back and forth as she waited for the scientist. When he finally stood from his desk, the femme felt her spark skip a beat.

"I am unable to concentrate," he said.

"Is it me?"

"Yes…"

Perceptor leaned over, his helm scraping along her shoulder plates. "Ooh, I'm sorry," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "So _very_ sorry." The sniper bumped her audio receptor with his nose as his hand squeezed her waist. He positioned himself between her thighs, letting his spike extend. Moonracer could feel her frame heat up, the anticipation was too great. She sat up on her knees, knowing it aggravated the mech. In response, Perceptor wrapped an arm around her torso and lifted her just enough to penetrate her valve before letting her back down onto his lap.

Moonracer slid her hands along her thighs, resisting the urge to move. The sniper, however, nudged her forward; his hands grasped at her hips, holding her firmly as he began to move. She clawed at the berth's surface, optics focused down, feeling her circuits ignite with every plunge he took. She soon found herself pressing back against his hips, which only served to encourage him.

The femme felt a whimper escape her throat as she lowered her torso to the berth. The new position allowed the scientist to sink deeper, eliciting a tremble of pleasure from his mate. It wasn't long after that, Moonracer succumbed to her fourth overload of the night; one that triggered his own. The spines clung to the mesh of wires that lined the inside of her valve, preventing the femme from moving away.

Perceptor leaned forward, his cheek plate brushing hers. It was one of those rare affectionate gestures that Moonracer savored. "Will you be able to work, now?"

"Not until you spark."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"You know, I could have Ratchet turn off my breeding protocols. That way, I won't have to worry about it." Speedy stood proudly, set on doing just that. Sway and Scope exchanged looks; however, a little worried about their crippled friend.

"What does Blurr think?"

"Daddy is all for it!"

"Huh, and what about Prowl?"

Scope glanced to Sway. "What do you mean?" Speedy clamed up and returned to her seat across the table. The larger mech ducked his head a bit. "I just overheard Prowl talking about her. He and Jazz were talking about the training sessions, but he focused on Speedy's. I found it strange."

The femme slumped. "Prowl gave me an extra energon cube, yesterday."

"Ooh, so he's got a soft spot for you!"

"Please, not so loud. I'm not interested…"

"Have you told him?"

"Yeah, but… He's my superior, you know?"

"Speedy, we're not Autobots. He has no control over you, or any of us."

She rested her chin on the table's surface. "What am I going to do? Just thinking about him watching me train is… creepy."

Scope wrinkled his nose. "He should be put in his place."

The other two stared at the mech. "You're talking about taking down a seasoned warrior, who could calculate your every move. On top of that, he knows your weakness and would use it against you. Don't be stupid, Scope."

"What's going on g-guys?"

The trio moved to let Cross get comfortable in the booth. "Sway was just telling us how good he was getting with swords!" Speedy threw on a cheerful façade, hoping to fool the archer. Cross looked to the swordsman and smiled. "I d-don't believe you," he said, crossing his arms on the table. "S-Seriously, w-what happened?"

"Scope…"

"Prowl keeps making Speedy uncomfortable… So, I thought, why not confront him about it?"

"Isn't Prowl the Autobot s-second in command, or something?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't give him the right to force himself on a femme."

"Woah, woah! No one said anything about him 'forcing himself' on her."

Scope emitted a sigh and looked to Speedy. She was already uncomfortable with all the talk about it. She wanted nothing more than to go find her sire, just to snuggle with him; Blurr was good at snuggles. "I'm sorry, Speedy," he said. "It just came out." She offered her crush a little smile. "It's okay… I just don't want it becoming public knowledge, you know?"

Cross reached over to pat Speedy's shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't t-tell a soul." He then moved to stand. "Well, I s-should be off. My m-mother needs me to m-move boxes and stuff. See you around!"

Sway waited until Cross disappeared around the corner before leaning against Scope. "So, when are you wanting to teach Prowl a lesson?"


	10. Chapter 10

_XD Thank you for the review!  
_

* * *

Scope peered up at the door—more importantly, the _name_ on the door. He took a deep breath and pressed the door chime. Thankfully, Prowl wasn't known for keeping his visitors waiting. He welcomed the younger mech inside, only to stare him down with those cold, calculating optics.

"What can I do for you, Scope?"

"It's about Speedy…"

"Go on."

"With all due respect, Prowl, I would like it if you… um, back off."

This was a lot harder than it sounded. Scope almost immediately regretted coming here, facing a superior Autobot officer. On the other hand, the thought of Speedy kept the flame alive, so to speak. He straightened his spinal strut, standing his ground as the police car began to circle him.

"You're telling me to 'back off'?" Prowl chuckled. "I can see why she likes you." He placed a hand upon Scope's shoulder. "Unfortunately, Speedy is coming to the age, where she'll not only be thinking about her career, but … her body will be preparing itself to produce hatchlings. I intend to sire those hatchlings to avoid defects."

"But, she has a defect—"

"Yes, but it can be fixed… Unlike yours. Besides, I have no defects within my lineage, so it would make sense to breed with the daughter of Cybertron's fastest mech. Female genes are always… recessive, which would explain that disgusting likeness to your _dear father._ I never thought he would have offspring. It almost frightens me."

Scope glanced to the tactician. "Speedy is mine." He wasn't there to hear the mech talk shit about his father. He was there to save his friend—his… love interest? Yes, love interest. He shrugged Prowl's hand from his shoulder and turned to the door. "Leave her alone, or I'll get Optimus involved."

With that, Scope left the room, leaving Prowl quite stunned. The black and white mech crossed his arms and stared at the door. "We'll see…"

As Scope entered his private quarters, Moonracer stood to greet him. "I heard you went to see Prowl. I didn't want to believe it." He sat down on his berth and exhaled heavily. "I fear I've just dug my own grave." The femme stroked his helm. "He can't do much, Scope. Don't worry so much about it…"

"It's Speedy I'm worried about," he said, "The whole thing was arranged. She deserves to be happy." Moonracer frowned and took a seat next to him. "I like Speedy, I do. I've always wanted you two together. I know Blurr and Prowl have their… whatever against Perceptor. I mean, let's be honest—since that attack that nearly ended his life, he hasn't been the easiest guy to get along with."

"Tell me about it," he scoffed, lightly touching his neck.

"Scope… Prowl won't stop. He gets this notion in his head and he's determined to carry it out." She wrapped her arms around his torso. "I want you to be careful."

"Always."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Prowl walked along the balcony overlooking the training room. He kept his optics locked on Scope, thinking of ways to pay him back for his little visit. Normally, he wouldn't care, but the mech got between him and securing his legacy; and that was just something he couldn't tolerate.

"You're getting better." Speedy smiled to her nestmate. Scope straightened. "Thanks," he said, "How's the… you know?" The femme glanced down her body. "I don't feel anything, if that's what you mean. My leg still hurts a bit, though. Ratchet said the pain would go away in a few days."

"He also told you 'no vigorous activity!'"

"'Hold still, you little brat!'"

The two laughed, which only seemed to burn Prowl up even more. He glanced to Sunstreaker, giving him the signal to up the training level. Scope wasn't prepared for the frontliner to come at him at full force, tackling him to the ground. The black and red mech gripped Sunstreaker along his chest armor and flipped their positions, putting Scope on top. He pushed off, landing on his feet as he prepared for another go. Speedy watched from the side, worried for Scope's safety as the session began to heat up. She could tell her friend was having trouble; his core temperature was rising and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep fresh air circulating through his systems.

The Lamborghini was determined to bring the younger mech crashing to the floor. The more intense the training, the weaker Scope got.

"Scope…" Speedy watched in horror as her friend dropped to his knees, trying desperately to draw air into his internals, attempting to cool his overheated system. She went to him. "Scope, where are the pills?"

"I…" He shook his head. No, he didn't have any; not with him. Sunstreaker winced and lifted his gaze to Prowl as the officer disappeared into a side room.

"Sunny, get Ratchet down here."


	11. Chapter 11

He onlined his optics, feeling the weight of exhaustion pin him to the medical berth. Off to the side, Scope could hear Ratchet argue with another medic. It was something about him—something about his defect. They wanted to fix him, but the possibility of complications was too high.

While they were distracted, Scope forced himself into a seated position and began to remove the wires attached to his chest. Unfortunately, one of the machines started to scream. Ratchet returned to his patient and turned off the instrument. "What do you think you're doing!?" He got the younger mech to lie back before reattaching the machines. "You're not going anywhere until I've given you a clean bill of health."

"What are you going to do, Ratchet?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My defect…"

The medic's expression softened. "We'll take care of you, kid… Don't worry."

"What will happen?"

"Well, I'm going to try and replace your ventilation system."

Scope shifted uncomfortably. "Will it hurt?"

"You won't feel a thing."

"What are the chances of me surviving the operation?"

Ratchet sighed. "60 percent."

"It's still pretty high," the younger mech said with a smile.

"Not high enough, for my liking."

He watched as the medic stepped away from the berth, nearly whimpering; he didn't want to be alone. "Ratchet, where is my mother?"

The red and white mech glanced over his shoulder. "I'll call her in," he said before proceeding into another room.

Moonracer knew what happened, but the old CMO wouldn't allow her anywhere near Scope until he was stable. As soon as she got the call, the femme was in the medbay and at her son's side. "I don't want it," he said. Moonracer simply nuzzled his helm, stroking his larger hand. "It needs to happen… It needs to happen or you'll collapse one day, and those pills won't be able to help."

"Will you stay here, while they do it?"

"Of course…"

"Does Perceptor know?"

Moonracer averted her gaze. "No… He doesn't know. He isn't going to know."

"The operation will happen tomorrow. I want to see him tonight."

The sharpshooter nodded. "Alright… If that's what you want," she said. "He isn't going to be happy." Scope sat up and glared at his mother. "He's _never_ happy! Primus, the guy doesn't even—why do I bother with him?!" Moonracer looked between him and the machines now beeping in alarm. "Scope, calm down."

"No, _fuck_ Perceptor. He can go to Hell, that sorry son-of-a-bitch!"

"Scope!"

Ratchet rushed over to the berth and forced the mech onto his back. "That's enough, kid. Your body can't take that kind of stress, right now." Scope offlined his optics and willed himself to push his anger aside. Moonracer stroked his cheek and then the scars along his neck. "Perceptor really has an influence on him," said the medic. "He has a lot of rage built up."

"Should I call him, now?"

"I think so… He's sedated."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Perceptor had been sitting next to the berth, for hours, his head propped up as he watched the youth sleep, sporting a bored expression; but Perceptor wasn't bored, at all. In fact, the sniper was worried.

"I heard the commotion earlier." Drift made his way towards the berth. "He's definitely mad at you," he added. Perceptor glanced to the swordsman: "Thank you, for stating the obvious." He moved one of the cords away from Scope's face as if admiring his features. "You could always make it up to him," Drift offered.

"How?"

"Heh, _you're_ the scientist."

Perceptor scoffed. "I wasn't cut out for this."

Drift stepped aside as the mech stood to leave the medbay. There was so much tension in Autobot HQ—no wonder Scope kept leaving. He returned his attention to the sedated BMW. They would attempt to fix his defect, something he knew the guy didn't want; and the outcome wouldn't be pretty.


End file.
